


flows like a river

by torigates



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torigates/pseuds/torigates





	flows like a river

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phantom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom/gifts).



They stayed in Waverly for almost a full week after the defeat of Kerrigor.

It was much longer than Sabriel wanted to tarry, and she could tell Touchstone was uncomfortable so far from the wall where the Charter was diluted. In the end, however, they didn't have much of a choice. They were both exhausted from their journey and the battle. Touchstone had a broken leg.

And, Sabriel supposed, she had been dead, technically speaking.

She had been in Death many times. Deep into Death. She had walked all Nine Precincts, and while she had known there was always a chance she might never return, she had never really considered her own Death. She thought about Abhorsen's--her father's--words, that all things must die, and that was something she had known too.

She no longer felt like the Sabriel who had first braved the Book of the Dead, and had stubbornly insisted her father was not dead.

She was Abhorsen.

Touchstone was king. Would be king. She was a little unclear on how that would work, given the current state of the Kingdom, but the girls… the Clayr. Sabriel wasn’t sure who or what or how Sanar and Ryelle were, or what they knew, or how they knew it. It wasn’t something she really wanted to think about. 

If Touchstone was going to be King, then what would happen to her? 

Sabriel knew that she should be strong. She should be ready to go and take on the challenges of the Old Kingdom as Abhorsen should. 

Sabriel told herself it didn’t matter that she had almost no knowledge of the kingdom, its people, or politics. She would have to make it work, and she would. She wouldn’t let down her father or any of the numerous Abhorsens who came before her. She would be strong. 

On their last night in Waverly, it occurred to her that if Touchstone really was going to be King then they would have to see each other frequently, and he had said he loved her, and she had said she loved him back, in a way. 

She snuck into the room where the school, somehow still concerned with propriety even in the midst of all the death and destruction, had placed him. She wasn’t sure why she had to see him or what she would say to him when she did, she just knew she had to see him. To remind herself he was real and present and so was she. 

Touchstone sat up suddenly when she walked into the room. Even in the darkness, she could see him reaching for his sword. 

“It’s me,” she said. 

He immediately relaxed. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Sabriel shook her head, but she wasn’t certain he could see her. She forced herself to speak. “Nothing’s wrong. I just--I wanted to be near you.” She paused. “Is that all right?” 

He cleared his throat and it sounded loud. The room was quiet. The entire school was quiet, and it was almost as if they were the only two people left behind. She almost wished they were. 

He sat up on the bed, and she crossed the room, hesitating only a moment before sitting down beside him. He put his arm around her shoulder, his fingers brushing gently against her as if he was unsure of his welcome. 

She leaned back into his touch. 

“What’s going to happen?” she asked. 

He pulled her tighter against his side. “I don’t know.” 

“You have to go back to Belisaere and I have to…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. There was much she had to do. More than one person could be expected to do on her own, and yet she knew her duty. 

“We can go together,” he told her. 

“How?” she asked desperately. It felt as if every part of her was going to fly apart at the seams, as if she had no control over herself or her own life. Like every bit of who she was wanted to go in different directions, and she didn’t know how to hold all that together and still be just Sabriel. If she would be allowed to be just Sabriel. 

“I don’t know,” he said. His hand was large and hot on her shoulder compared to the chill of the room. 

“Back at the clearing,” she said. “Where we got into the Paperwing, the Clayr told me you were the King.” 

He was silent for a long time. Too silent. He didn’t move, and she could only hear him breathing when she strained to listen closely. It was almost as if he was back in the sinkhole encased in wood. 

“Touchstone?” she asked. 

“I suppose that’s true,” he said finally. His voice was both loud and quiet. Soft and hoarse. “Mogget said… but I suppose there’s truly no one left. It hadn’t really sunk it,” he said. 

She turned her body towards his. 

“I’m scared,” she told him.” 

“Me too,” he said. 

\- 

The next morning they made their way back to the Wall. Colonel Horyse was dead, and things were still in a state of chaos. Sabriel knew they had left it too long, that she had been delaying only out of a sense of her own dread, but she hadn’t expected things to be this bad. 

People were running around, shouting. Only then did she remember the wind flutes. 

“The flutes,” she said with horror, turning to face Touchstone. “I should have respelled them again before now.” 

He put his hand on the back of her neck, and she allowed herself to draw strength from it, almost as if they were casting in tandem. 

“No matter,” he told her. “You’ll do it now.” 

She nodded and squared her shoulders. She knew it would not be her last mistake.

The Charter Marks for the flutes were not difficult on their own. It was only the large scale and frequency that made them difficult. Knowing how important they were to the Wall’s continued survival, Sabriel did not allow herself to rush through them. She checked each one twice, and stepped briefly into Death when she was done to hear their sound. 

She was shivering and hot all over, and most of the morning was gone by the time she had finished. Touchstone brushed a strand of her hair away from her face when she finally turned to him, smiling. He let his touch linger briefly, and she remembered again that he said he loved her. Remembered the kiss after Father had almost taken them back into Death. The memory of his lips against hers, the way he had smelled and tasted and felt beneath her hands made her feel hot all over for entirely different reasons.

It would be difficult, but not impossible, to take off with the Paperwing from outside the Wall. Sabriel allowed Touchstone to climb into the cockpit, grudgingly admitting that he was the stronger Charter Mage for the job. 

“Where to?” he asked, twisting to look at her. 

It was something they should have discussed long before now, she realised. It made little difference now, except she found she did not know how to answer him. 

She should go back to Father’s house. Her own house, now. To prepare and repair the damage to the bells and learn whatever else she could about being the Abhorsen. Yet, surely Touchstone would need to return to the capital? Although she knew in her heart that they would have to separate, she found herself wishing the time had not come so swiftly. 

“Perhaps, you should take the Paperwing alone,” she ventured. 

He turned fully to look at her. “What?” he asked. “Why?” 

“To return to the capital.” 

He looked at her as if she were crazy. “I’m not going anywhere without you,” he said. 

Sabriel knew she should argue. There were some things, such as the state of the Kingdom, that were more important than what she wanted for herself. Yet, when she opened her mouth to argue, nothing came out. 

“All right,” she said. “We should go to Abhorsen’s House.” 

He nodded. “Will the Paperwing know the way, do you think?” he asked. 

Sabriel wasn’t sure, but she knew they needed to get moving. They were already drawing a large crowd among the soldiers still stationed at the Wall, and the sooner they could be back in the Old Kingdom the better it would be for everyone. 

“I’m not sure,” she said truthfully. Then she had a thought. “There’s a broken Charter Stone not far from here,” she told him. “At a place called Cloven Crest. I had wanted to return and repair it.” 

“Hm,” he said. “All right, we’ll stop there first, and then we can decide how best to make our way to your house.” 

She tried not to show how disturbed she felt at hearing the Abhorsen’s house referred to her as hers, and settled more firmly into her seat while Touchstone whistled a few notes. The distance between the Wall and Cloven Crest was so short, it seemed almost silly to take the Paperwing up into the air. However, unless they wanted to leave the vessel behind there wasn’t any other choice. Before long Sabriel was leaning forward and pointing the spot out to Touchstone, and she watched with a touch of envy as he lay the craft easily to rest on the ground. 

The stone was still broken when they approached, still eerily still. Sabriel wasn’t sure what she expected, half sure everything was going to have fixed itself while she was gone. 

The two of them stood before the broken stone in silence. After a moment Sabriel realised she hadn’t an idea on how they were meant to go about repairing the damage. 

“Er,” she said, turning to him. “Do you know how to fix it?” 

He shook his head slowly, and Sabriel cursed herself again. It was just another example of how she wasn’t prepared to handle--well, any of this. 

“In theory,” he told her slowly. “I have an idea, but I’ve never done it myself.” 

They work through the magic with a combination of luck, skill, and sheer determination. It was mid morning in Ancelstierre when they crossed the wall, but it must have been closer to after noon when when they journeyed into the Old Kingdom because the last streaks of daylight were now disappearing behind the horizon. 

It was warm next to the stone, and Sabriel was struck suddenly with how different things were from the last time she had been there. 

“I wonder if it’s safe to take the paperwing up now?” she asked. 

Touchstone looked up. It the air further away from the stone was brisk and getting colder. “Probably not,” he said. “Paperwings don’t like to fly at night.” 

Sabriel nodded. Mogget had said as much the last time. It was strange, now that he was bound by Ranna he was most often asleep. Sabriel had hardly been able to rouse him since Kerrigor’s defeat. She hadn’t bothered trying to get anything out of the tiny black cat that had once been the Abhorsen’s greatest enemy. It made her feel cowardly and weak, but she was afraid whenever she remembered that hot breath against her face. 

“It is most likely safe to stay here for the night,” Touchstone said. “Close to the stone’s protection.” 

Sabriel agreed, and the two of them began the task of setting up camp. 

They didn’t have many things, just their skis, tent, a little food, and a bedroll each. Touchstone easily got a fire going, and they huddled next to each other for warmth. 

Despite the added strength their warmth spells drew from the nearby stone, the night quickly grew cold, and soon they were huddled under the blankets inside the tent. Touchstone wanted to stay out on first watch, but when Sabriel argued that she should go first, he relented and said they could both stay inside the tent as long as one of them stayed awake. 

“I’m sorry I made us come here,” she said a little while later. They were lying next to each other and shivering despite the number of blankets. 

“Why?” he said. “It was important to fix the stone. We’re going to have to fix many stones…” He trailed off as if he were imagining all the stones that needed repairing, all the blood they’d have to bleed to make them right again. 

“We could have waited,” she said. “We could have come back when we were more prepared, or less exhausted, or--” 

He cut her off with a palm over her mouth. Sabriel startled and looked at him with wide eyes. He grinned ruefully, before removing his hand. She was suddenly so much more aware of the sharp sting of the cold around her. 

He shifted so he was closer to her, and pulled the blankets more firmly around them. She allowed herself to relax, and lay her head on his shoulder. His body felt warm and strong underneath her, and she gave into the temptation to wrap her arm around his middle. He ran his fingers up from her wrist, and cupped her elbow gently. They were both quiet in the dark, although she could make out the outline of his face, the shape of his nose. 

“We have to get started at some point,” he told her. “It may as well be here.” 

He was right, she knew. It may as well be here, where her first journey began. The next journey was going to be long and dark and difficult, and Sabriel didn’t know when she’d be able to rest again. _If_ she’d be able to rest again. She thought maybe things wouldn’t be so bad with him beside her. If she could continue to have these nights, soft, intimate moments, where the two of them could just listen to the other one breathing in the quiet darkness.


End file.
